


Sweaty Palms

by RedRidingHood24



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 01:19:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4371635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRidingHood24/pseuds/RedRidingHood24
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a prompt I filled for Stydia-Fanficton on Tumblr! A Lydia and Stiles wedding :) 3B ending spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweaty Palms

_Author’s Note: I suggest listening to Let Me In by Grouplove while reading around the middle (:_

(Lydia’s POV)

I always thought the sweaty palms thing was bull ,but now I get it. The zipper of my skirt slips out of my fingers over and over. I have to get it off to put the actual dress on. “Holy crap,” I try to cool down before Kira takes over, undoing all of my difficult buttons and zippers. Once I’ve changed into a strapless bra, Kira helps slide the dress on. To keep everything “up,” I step into the dress and pull it on so it cups me.

“Oh my God, Lydia…it’s gorgeous…” Kira stands back to admire the dress and puts her hands over her mouth. “Stiles is going to  _die_.” She pushes the body mirror over to me. I don’t remember it looking this perfect when I tried it on at the boutique. It’s pure white, lace lining the sweetheart cut on the chest and the rest streaming down my body all the way to my feet. “Good thing I don’t have my makeup on yet,” Kira fans her face.

"Are you decent?” The door creaks open with a gentle voice. Expertly carved cherry oak makes up the whole entrance to this room. It was my grandmother’s wish for the lake house to be extraordinary, and that’s why we chose it to host our wedding.

“Yes, mom.” She does exactly as I expect her to: say a squeaky “oh” and smash her cheeks together a little with the palms of her hands. “You look so pretty,” I tell her. She’s wearing a deep red dress with ruffled sleeves.

“Thank you, honey.” She breathes a laugh. “He hasn’t seen it yet, has he?” I shake my head.

“Absolutely not. Is Scott here?”

She hesitates. “Yeah…he um…got here a little early.”

(Stiles’ POV)

Is puke supposed to be _this_  green? “What are you so worried about?” Scott asks me with his hand on my back while I lean over the toilet. “You love her, dude.”

“I’m getting  _married_ , Scott.” I turn and growl at him as seriously as I can with last night’s chicken nuggets on my chin. “Oh God it’s like I’m giving birth through my mouth,” I wretch and gag over the bowl.

"Don’t worry, I brought your toothbrush.” I stand up and press my back against the shower door. Lydia’s on the other wing of the house, probably looking stunning as always. Hopefully she’s puking too so then she won’t notice my breath when we kiss.

“It’s time,” my dad peeks in with a crinkled-eyed smile. I walk on shaky legs to the back door that leads onto the patio and into the grass. The canopy that holds our guests sits on a small hill above the crystal lake that calmly laps at the edges with fish and small lizards. Scott leaves my side to direct Kira’s parents to their seats. I stroll down the aisle with surprising confidence. I look at the rows of wedding guests, all dressed crisply for the occasion. My dad is seated next to Melissa beside a few streams of white and lavender flowers. Cora and Derek sit behind them underneath the sign that says, “pick a seat, not a side,” and they’re accompanied by Chris. I notice the empty chair next to my father. It’s where my mother would be. And the spot beside where Kira now stands where Allison would be. Kira looks very nice in the purple dress Lydia picked for her. I turn to Scott who stands beside me, rocking back and forth on his feet, hands behind his back and staring at Kira. His pressed black suit fits him and the lavender tie he wears over his dress shirt creates a handsome sophistication on his normally childlike face.

“Don’t look now,” he leans in to say in my ear. I turn my head and there she is. I know the music must be playing but I can’t hear anything but a ringing and the shaky breath she lets out on the walk. I’ve seen her in almost everything and absolutely nothing but this is…this is pure bliss, seeing her in this strapless gown. It’s the simplest thing she’s ever worn but it says the most. She carries a bouquet of deep purple flowers against her stomach. Her hair’s lightly curled and the front is twisted back. Softly painted pink lips push out a little and then open up to show her white teeth. Every step she takes is way too long of a wait.

(Lydia’s POV)

I’m holding onto the cuffs of his grey blazer and oh God…his breath smells like minty flowers. He leans in to bring it closer, totally ignoring the pastor giving us a speech that means nothing to us besides the legality of our marriage. Finally, the sound comes back into my ears but the air leaves my lungs. “I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Stiles Stilinski.” The pastor has known Stiles all his life in turn knowing to never call him by his real name. “You may kiss your bride.” He leans in and it’s seconds before it’s official. My last name is now Stilinski. I think I like the sound of it. I imagine, while he kisses me, how his lips look; his dimples coming out with the smile I can feel, his deep cupid’s bow still there. His little turn-up nose presses against my cheek. It’s spring, but my whole body chills when we pull away.

Coach stands up first. “Yeah, Stilinski!” He deepens his voice. It’s been years since I’ve seen him but he’s still the same. The rest of the guests join in with him. Kira brings me into a hug and Scott does the same with Stiles.

Walking down the aisle feels like a dream. I look to my parents, to Chris; his chair bumped a little into the one beside him: the one for Allison. He nods and smiles silently saying, “she is so proud of you.” The sheriff pecks me on the cheek before Stiles and I reach the end of the aisle. Stiles trips on the edge of the carpet but he’s not fatally injured so I laugh at him.

“I should’ve just worn sneakers,” he shakes his head at himself. And there it is: an obnoxiously blue jeep decorated with cans and car paint. “Just Married,” is written on the back windshield. “Aw Roscoe,” he pats the jeep, “you shouldn’t have!”

“What the hell.” I stop for a minute and let out a “pppsh” between my lips and bow my head. “But I’m glad you did, Roscoe.” I call the jeep by it’s (his?) pet name. I climb in with my shoes off. Our friends and family come to us in the wide stretched driveway sprinkled in lavender petals. Jackson is the first to pull out a small bottle of bubbles. “I’m happy for you,” he mouths before blowing into the bubble stick. I didn’t see him in the ceremony but then again, I didn’t expect him to come all the way from London so I didn’t look for him. He nods once at Stiles in some way like a father giving his daughter away.

We drive down the road canopied by trees. He turns left. “Wait, where are you going?” I open my eyes wide.

“To our house! I have to carry you over the threshold.” He takes one hand off the steering wheel and puts it in the air to question me.

“Um, the reception!” I squeal.

“Oh!” He makes a U turn, causing the tires to squeak on the road. I look out the window to see half of our guests throwing their hands the air like “of course he did!”

Now that we’re on the right track, we continue on to Derek’s loft. Since Stiles agreed to my request for an extravagant wedding, I gave in to his wish for a simple reception: pizza instead of a three course dinner and the free usage of Derek’s apartment building.

He did humor me though. Thin strings of lights decorate the bones of the ceiling and there are a few vases of flowers on the surfaces. We part ways for now. He joins Scott and Derek at the table full of food and my father sways with me to the slow music. For some reason, this doesn’t mean as much to me as when Chris dances me around the floor. “I wish she could’ve-” I speak of his daughter.

“But it feels like she’s here, doesn’t it?” He looks around, acknowledging our friends, our family, and I smile. They’re here because she’s not. She saved them.

The sheriff boogies with his shoulders after a few glasses of champagne. he shimmies into Stiles before sobering up and putting a hand on both of our shoulders. “Claudia would have loved to have you as her daughter-in-law.” He looks me in the eye with his friendly smile.

“Thanks, dad.” Stiles hugs him. I love their hugs. They’re much tighter and more genuine than most father/son hugs. I can tell how much they mean.

Through the night, I dance with Stiles, Scott, Jackson, Derek, and even Coach. Kira puts her hands behind my neck. “My turn with the bride!” We try to slow dance to the fast music and laugh as we go. “We stink at this,” she says before I catch something in the corner of my eye: Stiles putting a pause on Melissa and Scott’s dance.

“Mind if I cut in?” He asks, taking Melissa’s hand.

“Not at all,” she says and smiles before being shipped off onto the sheriff.

“Stiles, what the hell?” Scott is spun around the room against his will.

“Wow, Scott. For an alpha, you’re not a very good dancer.” It’s then when he smiles at me, real happiness in his eyes. He switches Scott out for me, pulling me into him, no silliness. “I love you, Lyds.” There is nothing better than this: the warmness of my giant mixed up family of werewolves, hunters, kitsunes, and everyone in between. I close my eyes, ending my day right here; right where it’s perfect and enclosed in this little space of time. I’ll never let it go away

 


End file.
